


When Your Path Crossed Mine

by Lecavayay



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Not Hockey Player(s), Fake/Pretend Relationship, M/M, Tampa Bay Lightning, Trope Subversion, Weddings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-17
Updated: 2017-07-17
Packaged: 2018-12-03 10:16:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,102
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11530137
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lecavayay/pseuds/Lecavayay
Summary: They walk away with their drinks and Slater clinks his glass against Braydon’s. “To being single at weddings.”





	When Your Path Crossed Mine

**Author's Note:**

  * For [verbaeghe](https://archiveofourown.org/users/verbaeghe/gifts).



> This is a long awaited treat for Mish who did so much work on the exchange this year and deserves all the fic.
> 
> I know the collection is closed but I'm the mod and I can do what I want :)

Slater has been listening to the sweet old women tell him about her latest knitting project for about six minutes now. She seems lovely and he’s certain her new grandson is going to love it hung above his crib, but he’s also pretty sure he’s ten good seconds away from falling asleep with his eyes open.

Which is when Jake pops his head up from the cubicle next to him. “I need a favor.”

Slater holds up a finger. “I agree, Mrs. Southerland. Is there anything else I can help you with today? Wonderful. Thank you for continuing to be a valued customer of Insight Communications, have a great day.” He hangs up and throws his headset away. “What is it, I’ll do anything.”

“How would you like to go on an all-expenses paid trip to Calgary?”

“I feel like this is a trap. Tell me more.”

“My mom’s best friend’s son is getting married--.”

“—oh geez.”

“We grew up together so now I’m required to attend these happy nuptials. Which are in Calgary. At the end of May.”

“Okay…” he says, drawing out the o.

“My mom will pay for the trip with only one condition,” Jake continues. “I have to bring a, and I quote, nice proper boy as a date.”

Slater lets that settle in before opening his mouth. “So out of all your friends, you’re picking me.”

“Yes.”

“You know Yanni is way nicer than I am, right?”

“Yeah, but you’re _charming_. And you look better in a suit than I do. You’re a total catch and my mom will love you. So I need you to say yes.”

Slater knows he’s a pushover when people ask him to do things and honestly, a paid trip to Calgary is one of the better things he’s been presented with recently. “Yeah, whatever.”

Jake pumps his fists in the air. “You are, without a doubt, the best,” he says before disappearing back behind the cubicle wall.

“Hey wait,” Slater says, jumping up so he can see Jake’s mess of a desk. “I don’t have to like, kiss you or anything, right?”

“Nah man, just hold my hand and say nice things about me to my mom.”

“Okay, yeah. I can do that.”

“And don’t hit on any of the groomsmen. I get jealous easily.”

Slater rolls his eyes and slumps back into his chair, his phone blinking with a waiting call.

 

//

 

It’s raining the morning of their flight to Calgary and Slater’s not a good flyer on the clearest of days. He feels like his stomach is going to drop right out of his ass every time the plane so much as quivers.

“We should get out of it soon,” Jake says, unwinding his earbuds.

Slater wishes that was enough to comfort him. “I hate this.”

“I know,” he replies, easily. “You wanna squeeze the shit out of my hand?”

Slater side-eyes the offered hand, not really in the mindset to play boyfriend at this particular moment in time. Until the plane drops into a cloud and his life flashes before his eyes.

Jake smiles and puts their joined hands in his lap before sticking his earbuds in and reclining his seat. “It’s gonna be fine.”

The plane bounces and Slater digs his nails into Jake’s knuckles.

 

They arrive in Calgary exactly four hours later, all in one piece, which Slater thinks is nothing short of a miracle.

Jake turns on his phone as they taxi to the gate and it immediately starts pinging.

“Geez, who are all those from?” Slater asks after the flurry comes to an end.

“My mom. She’s been here for like, forty-five minutes already.”

“Uh…”

“She’s super excited to meet you.”

“You, uh, you think we should hammer out some relationship details or are we winging it?” he asks, unlatching his seatbelt now that the sign has been turned off.

“We met at work and have been happily together for like six months.”

“ _Like_ six months or actually six months?”

Jake purses his lips in Slater’s general direction. “I dunno. Around six months. We’re not serious enough to be keeping that close of tabs on things.”

Slater is offended on behalf of their fake relationship. “No wonder you can’t keep a boyfriend.”

 

Jake’s mom is waiting for them at baggage claim and she rushes up to them with a wide smile and very grabby hands. Slater gets pulled into a hug first.

“It’s so nice to meet you. I was just so pleased when Jacob told me he was bringing someone to this thing. He never brings boys around anymore and I worry about him out there on his own.”

Slater smiles and reaches out for Jake’s hand, heaping on the fake charm. “Oh I make sure to take very good care of _Jacob_.”

Mrs. Dotchin beams and grabs for Slater’s suitcase.

“Oh, you don’t have to do that,” he says, catching the handle before she can whisk it away.

She honestly looks like she’s going to argue about it until Jake butts it.

“Where did you park, mom?” he asks.

“Oh,” she says. “Just short-term parking, over here.”

Slater raises questioning eyebrows once she’s turned her back and gets rewarded with a swift punch to the shoulder.

 

The hotel they’re staying at is on the same lot the ceremony will be the next day, all neatly manicured hills facing out over a small lake. It’ll be a beautiful backdrop, Slater thinks.

“I tried to get us on the same floor,” Mrs. Dotchin explains, leading them toward the elevators. “But with the place so booked up, there weren’t many rooms left.”

“Too bad,” Jake says, completely disingenuous.

Mrs. Dotchin huffs, pressing the four and five buttons once they’re all inside. “I’ll let you boys settle in but your father and I have reservations for dinner at seven-thirty and we’d love for you both to come.”

The doors open on the fourth floor and Jake leans over to wrap his mom in a hug. “We’ll be there.”

Slater smiles her way before following Jake out and to the left, counting down the numbers next to the doorframes until they get to 455.

“Home sweet home,” Jake says once the little card light turns green.

They shuffle through the short hallway, past the bathroom, and into th—“Oh no.”

“I hope you don’t hog the covers,” Jake says, tossing his bag onto the only bed in the room.

It’s not a small bed, per se, but they’re not very small guys. And also Slater definitely sleeps naked. Guess that’s out of the question. “Hope you don’t snore.”

“I’m a great snuggler,” Jake replies, digging his toiletry bag out of his duffle. “Which usually makes up for the snoring.”

Slater makes a mental note to look for earplugs in the hotel lobby and resolutely doesn’t think about the snuggling.

 

Dinner is at a steakhouse in town, one Slater knows he wouldn’t normally be able to afford. Mr. Dotchin had made it clear on the ride over that they should order whatever they wanted, his treat. The little seed of guilt that burrowed deep into Slater’s chest when he first met Jake’s mom starts to take root, especially when Jake pulls a chair out for him and the menus are thick leather with whole-dollar prices.

He’s suddenly not very hungry.

“So Slater,” Mr. Dotchin starts once they’ve ordered drinks. “Tell us a little about yourself.”

“Uh, well. I’m from Winchester, Ontario. Outside of Ottawa. And I--.”

“You’re not a Sens fan, are you?”

Slater can’t read his tone, whether he should go with a joke or an apology. He thinks maybe self-depricat--

“It’s something we’re working through,” Jake says, jumping to his rescue. “I’ll get him in a Leafs shirt one day.”

Slater watches his mom’s eyes go soft at the mention of a future. He smirks, slapping a heavy hand on Jake’s thigh. “I’d like to see you try, babe.”

The table laughs and Slater’s shoulders relax an inch or two. This is going to be fine, even if there is only one bed.

 

//

 

Slater wakes up gasping for air, his face pressed into the pillow and something heavy and hot on top of him, crushing his chest into the mattress.

“Jake,” he says. “Jake, g’off me. I’m dying.”

He tries to wiggle out from under him but Jake clearly has the upper hand in this position, full weight across his shoulders and hips. Jake gives a heavy exhale and his hot dragon breath hits the sensitive spot on Slater’s neck and just for a second it almost feels good.

Slater shivers. “ _Jacob_.”

Jake lifts his head, startled. “Hmpf?”

“Get. Off. Me.”

He grumbles as he rolls over, taking most of the sheet with him, and Slater stretches with the new freedom, ankles and toes cracking. He checks the clock and is pretty sure if he gets up now, he’ll have enough time to shower _and_ get free breakfast downstairs.

“Hey,” he says, poking Jake in the side. “You want me to bring you some food?”

“No, go away.”

“Okay well, you have to get up in 30 minutes to start getting ready.”

Jake stuffs a pillow over his head and Slater makes sure his phone is turned up all the way so he’ll hear the alarm.

 

The ceremony is beautiful. Everything is covered in pastel flowers and soft pink ribbon. It’s a cloudless sky and the sun reflects off the lake, a picture-perfect setting for the bride and groom.

They give lovely handwritten vows that make Slater tear up, which doesn’t surprise him at all. Weddings always get him. Jake moves to offer his pocket square and Slater elbows him in the ribs. He’ll wipe his own tears, thanks.

It makes him feel better that he’s not the only one – he spots one of the groomsmen blinking rapidly as the bride gets choked up while slipping the ring on her nearly-husband’s finger. It’s so clear that they’re in love, Slater thinks. He doesn’t even know them and he can tell.

He wants that one day.

“You may kiss your bride,” the pastor announces to polite applause.

Jake leans over once the newlyweds have gone back down the aisle. “Let’s drink.”

 

While the wedding party gets pictures taken and does whatever else they do between the ceremony and dinner, Slater follows Jake to the reception hall. His parents and a few other couples that lived near the groom’s mother fill out the rest of the seats at their designated table. Slater bonds with them over embarrassing stories of Jake as a child.

“You were quite the handful,” he says after a rousing retelling of the time Jake jumped off the roof of the house because he thought he was Superman. “Not much different than now, really.”

“I’m getting a drink,” Jake announces. “Maybe two.”

“Bring me one!” Slater shouts after him.

“So how did you two meet?” one of the older gentlemen at the table asks.

“Oh, uh. Well, my roommate at the time knew Jake from high school and so we hung out some just from that. But we didn’t really know each. Then the company I worked for laid off a bunch of people and I was looking for a new job. Jake worked for Insight and offered to put in a good word for me and the rest is history, really.”

“And how long?”

“Almost six months,” he says, sticking to the loose plan from the flight.  

Jake arrives back with two whiskey sours, handing one off to Slater. He catches himself before he does something weird, like lean in and give him a kiss. “Thanks,” he says instead, smiling softly.

“Ah, young love,” Mrs. Dotchin sighs.

Slater hides his grimace in his drink, thankful for the distraction of the bride and groom being introduced into the room. They have their first dance, something slow and sweet, the bride tucking her face into her husband’s neck. Slater gets a little misty eyed and if Jake notices, he has the good sense not to mention it.

There are toasts made over dinner – one by the maid of honor, one by the best man – and they’re both charmingly funny and heartfelt.

“You have your whole wedding planned out already, don’t you?” Jake asks when they’re both at the buffet for seconds.

“I’ve thought about it,” he admits, piling more mashed potatoes on his plate. “Sorry I’m not allergic to love like you.”

That gets a laugh out of him. “You want another drink?”

He nods. “Thanks, darlin’. You’re the best.”

His second plate is almost full, but he spots the last little pierogi and reaches for it. At the same time as someone else. “Oh, sorry.”

He recognizes the guy, all curly hair and red scruff. The flower pinned to his lapel confirms he’s in the wedding party and his bright smile confirms Slater’s in trouble. “Go for it,” the guys says. “It’s all yours.”

“Full disclosure, I’ve already had three. So you should probably take it.”

The groomsman holds up a finger before disappearing back to the beginning of the buffet where the silverware is. He returns with a fork and breaks the dumpling in half. “Problem solved.”

“You’re genius,” Slater says, scooping his half onto his plate.

“Braydon’s fine. Genius is my middle name.”

Slater smirks, making the fatal mistake of getting lost in Braydon’s eyes.

“So you know the groom?” Braydon asks, breaking the spell.

Slater nods. “Well, the guy I’m here with knows the groom. I’m just along for the ride. And the perogies.”

Braydon laughs and Slater thinks he’d be happy to drown in it.

He’s horribly in trouble.

 

Once the sun begins to set, the music starts. It’s a classic mix of pop and cheesy wedding songs. Slater gets roped into the Macarena with one of the groom’s little cousins which really lets him show off his hip work.

“Quite the booty circle you got there,” Jake comments once Slater pulls himself away from the dance floor.

“That’s my go-to move, don’t hate on it.” He’s hot so he loosens his tie and works the first couple of buttons of his shirt open.

“Can I get all the couples out on the dancefloor, please!” the DJ calls.

“We should probably go,” Jake says, offering his hand. “For appearances sake.”

Slater spots Braydon talking to a couple girls around his age and a bridesmaid. He’s taken off his jacket and rolled up his sleeves. His forearms are surprisingly distracting.

It’s unfortunate that he spots Slater staring as Jake leads him to join the other couples, young and old, on the floor waiting for instruction.

“We’re going to see who’s been together the longest. I’ll start low and when I get to the year you’ve been together, I ask that you please leave the dancefloor. Here we go.”

The song that plays is slow and romantic, a soulful voice singing about everlasting love. Jake’s hand on Slater’s waist feels awkward and wrong.

“Less than one year,” the DJ announces not thirty seconds in. “Please leave the dancefloor.”

Slater is relieved to shuffle back to their seats. They watch as more couples leave the dancefloor – five years, ten years, twenty years, thirty years, forty years – until two couples remain, both with grey hair and weathered skin.

Slater’s heart aches for that, for a love that lasts decades and decades. He spots Braydon across the way looking fond.

“You want a drink?” Slater leans over to ask Jake.

“Nah.” He wiggles his mostly full beer. “I should go say hi to Derek.”

They part ways, Jake heading for the bride and groom and Slater taking the long way to get in line for the bar. Waiting behind a very happy couple, he decides that as nice as it is to be away from his job for a long weekend, coming to a wedding in a fake relationship is terrible.

“So we meet again.”

Slater turns to find Braydon standing behind him, hands in his pockets. “Hey,” he beams, something warm blooming in his chest.

“Can I get you a drink?” he asks. “They’re on the house for us.”

“Uh, sure. Yeah. Whatever you’re having.”

Braydon smiles. “I don’t think you’ll like what I’m having.”

“Try me.”

They arrive at the front of the line to the smiley bartender. “Jameson and ginger for me and a…”

“Same,” Slater says, relieved it wasn’t something awful like gin. “For me, too. The same.”

They walk away with their drinks and Slater clinks his glass against Braydon’s. “To being single at weddings.”

Braydon cocks an eyebrow. “Single?”

It takes Slater far too long to realize what he’s said. “Oh! Um, I mean…uh.”

“What _do_ you mean?”

Slater bites at his lip, looks up at Braydon. “I’m not…exactly with Jake.”

“Not _exactly_ or not at all?”

Slater does his best to look sheepish. “Not at all. He asked me to be his date because his mom told him he had to bring a nice boy with him.”

“And you were the only nice boy around?” Braydon asks, spinning the ice in his drink.

“The only one within arm’s reach,” he replies. “We work together. He said I was charming.”

“Oh I believe that.”

Slater hopes his blush isn’t too apparent in the dim lighting. “You can’t tell anyone, though. About me and Jake. His mom would be devastated.”

“Deal, but you’ll have to do something for me in return.”

“Anything,” he blurts way before his brain could stop him from sounding that desperate.

“May I have the next dance?”

Slater considers just how bad it would be to get caught with his hands around Braydon’s shoulders, what Mrs. Dotchin would say, what rumor would spread through the room about that harlot Jake brought with him to his childhood friend’s wedding. “Jake told me not to flirt with the groomsmen.”

“Too late to fix that, it seems,” Braydon says, smooth and sure. “What’s that saying? In for a penny, in for a pound?”

Slater doesn’t think he knows that one but the current song is coming to an end, he’s got to make a decision…

_If it hadn’t been for Cotton-Eye Joe, I’d been married a long time ago…_

“Oh my god,” he gasps, hunching over in laughter. “Oh this is going to be amazing, c’mon.”

Braydon looks incredibly disappointed. “We can wait for a better song, you know.”

“No, no. This one is _perfect_.” He takes Braydon’s drink from him and sets them both down on the nearest table before grabbing his hand. “You do know the dance, right?”

Anyone looking at Braydon’s face would know that he does not know the dance. Slater is going to enjoy the hell out of this.

“Okay, well the first part is pretending you’ve got a big ass belt buckle.” He gets Braydon to stick his thumbs under his waistband. “And the second part is not to get run over.”

Slater, and everyone else on the dancefloor, dances circles around Braydon who keeps ending up on the wrong foot and clapping on the wrong beat. It’s hilarious and Slater can’t stop watching him, the way he smiles and laughs through the whole thing, always bringing his thumbs back to his belt loops.

“Oh god I’m horrible,” he says, breathing heavy once the song’s done. “I’m horrible and out of shape.”

Slater’s not sure that second part is very true, judging by the breadth of his shoulders and the cut of his hips. He opens his mouth to say just that when Jake grabs him from behind.

“Hey, mom and dad want pictures.”

“Yeah okay,” he says, pushing his hair off his forehead. “I’ll be right there.” He waits until Jake’s disappeared into the crowd before turning back to Braydon. “Don’t go anywhere, okay?”

“I’ll find you.”

Slater holds his gaze for a breath before turning away and following the same path Jake took.

There’s a cute little set up out on a dock for pictures with the lake and the fading sunset in the background. Slater wraps his arm around Jake’s waist and thinks of Braydon. He wonders how much Jake would hate him if he took Braydon out here and pressed him up against the nearest hard surface. Probably a lot, he decides.

“And just a couple of you two,” Mrs. Dotchin says. “Such a romantic setting.”

Slater smiles a little brighter and hopes something nice comes out on camera.  

 

It’s quite a few songs later when Braydon finds him sitting alone at his designated table, nursing a warm beer.

“Told you I’d find you,” he says, sitting down with a pair of drinks, offering one. “You looked like you could use it.”

Slater takes the Jameson and ginger with a smile. Braydon’s hair has started to fight the gel slicked through it, curling a little around his ears. He wants to run his fingers through it. “What are we going to cheers to this time?” he asks. “Got a secret you’d like to tell?”

Braydon pauses, thumbs at the little black napkin under his glass. “To being captured by a stranger’s smile.”

Slater hides that smile in his drink.

“And to doing something about it,” Braydon continues. He gets up and brushes soft fingers against Slater’s shoulder as he passes him, heading for the exit.

Slater’s not an idiot, he knows a move when one has been made. He also knows he shouldn’t, not here. Not when he shouldn’t even be _here_ in the first place.

He finishes his drink and goes. He’ll send Jake an apology fruit basket.

 

Slater sees Braydon down by the lake, leaning against the fence that surrounds the water. The sun has set fully now, the moon really the only light this far away from the party. The stars are brighter out here than in the city.

Slater folds his elbows along the top of the fence next to him, silently watches the lake ripple in the breeze. He can feel the heat of Braydon’s arm so close to his, smell the rich scent of his cologne, taste the tension curling up like a fist.

Braydon snaps, cupping Slater’s jaw in his hands and kissing him. Slater’s at the mercy of his lips and teeth and tongue, desperately trying to kiss him back with just as much fervor.

When Braydon pulls away, Slater clutches at his arms not wanting him to go too far. He knows they’re out in the open, anyone who would look their way would see them. But something about the danger of it makes him want to do it again.

He leads Braydon to a small collection of trees away from the dock and presses him up against the trunk of one, rocking up to capture his lips in another kiss. Braydon’s fingers pull his hips closer, moves him with such ease it makes Slater groan against his jaw. One hand slips down over his ass as Braydon noses behind Slater’s ear and along his neck, biting kisses into the skin there.

Slater whines when Braydon finds that perfect spot low on his neck and his hips arch. Braydon tugs at Slater’s tie and a few more of his shirt buttons to work more of Slater’s skin in between his teeth. Slater winds fingers into his hair to urge him on, gasping into the quiet night air.

 

He doesn’t realize he’s lost his tie until Jake finds him and points it out.

“I thought I told you not to hit on the groomsmen,” he says, tilting Slater’s head to one side. “Guess I’ll have to take credit for those marks if anyone asks.”

Slater should say he’s sorry but he presses his fingers into one of the tender spots along his jaw and smiles instead.

"You're the worst wedding date ever."

"I told you to take Yanni."

Jake huffs. 

 

//

 

_Two weeks later_

Slater comes back from lunch to a manila envelope addressed to him on his desk. The return label is from Calgary. 

He rips into it to find the tie he lost at the wedding and a note: _Slater – I knew you worked with Jake so I asked my sister to ask her husband to ask his mom to ask Jake’s mom for the address of your office. Here’s your tie back. It’s a nice one, I didn’t want you to lose it. And here’s my phone number, if you’re ever in Calgary again. It was amazing to meet you – Braydon._

Slater types the number into his cell, excitement fluttering in his chest, and sends a text.  _Hey stranger._  

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [When Your Path Crossed My Happily Ever After](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15914562) by [verbaeghe](https://archiveofourown.org/users/verbaeghe/pseuds/verbaeghe)




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